


Double Trouble

by DSK1138



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Clones, Knotting, M/M, Oral Sex, Riding, Spike Modifications (Transformers), Spitroasting, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome, Valve Fingering (Transformers), fucking for peace, sensitive medic hands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DSK1138/pseuds/DSK1138
Summary: Ratchet finds himself in the same time and place as both Drift and Deadlock. Tensions are high, but they decide to work out their differences in a more constructive way: by fragging Ratchet senseless.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Drift/Deadlock, drift/ratchet/deadlock
Comments: 19
Kudos: 127





	1. A Curious Thing

Ratchet didn’t know whether he should curse Brainstorm or thank him, for having caused this whole mess to begin with.

As the Lost Light’s chief medic, Ratchet would like to think he was prepared to deal with just about anything, but the situation he was in now had certainly thrown him for a loop. He never thought he’d see himself face to face with Deadlock again, let alone in the same room as  _ Drift _ . After several unsuccessful attempts to kill each other, they’d decided to work out their differences in a more… constructive way. If constructive meant fragging Ratchet senseless.

He heard the sound of a door opening, and a set of pede steps entered the room. Ratchet could tell it was Drift, even from where he knelt on the floor, blindfolded. He’d know those pede steps anywhere.

In addition to being blindfolded, his hands were cuffed behind his back. Deadlock had said something about feeling more comfortable knowing he wouldn’t be attacked and outnumbered if Ratchet was restrained, but Ratchet suspected it was a thinly-veiled excuse to act out one of his kinks. Not that Ratchet minded. It was a kink the three of them had in common, even if no one voiced it out loud.

“You comfortable?” Drift asked, stepping closer.

“Mhmm. We both know this isn’t my first rodeo, kid. I was doing this before you were even a glint in the well of sparks.”

Ratchet could picture Drift’s smile, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?”

Ratchet nodded, somewhat distracted. He could smell fresh wax on Drift’s frame.  _ He’s gotten all cleaned up for this. _ He would love to get his servos all over that shiny frame of Drift’s, but for now it seemed that wasn’t on the table. Hopefully there would still be plenty of ways to make up for it.

Another door slammed open, and a set of heavy pede steps strutted in. While Drift’s steps were light, Deadlock nearly shook the ground he walked on. It was some kind of posturing, Ratchet imagined. A way to seem threatening. Had he not already lived through a four million year war, it might have worked.

“I see you two are ready to go. You’re looking good, doctor,” Deadlock growled, revving his engine as if to punctuate the thought.

“We all know the terms,” Drift started. “The safe word is Rodion. Upon hearing it, all parties will stop what they are doing, and if anyone fails to comply-”

“They’re in for a fight. I know,” Deadlock snarled. “I can’t speak for you Autobots, but  _ I _ keep my word.”

“We’ll find out,” said Drift cautiously.

There was silence for a moment, as the two hovered awkwardly next to Ratchet, each of them afraid to make the first move.

“Well? I don’t have all day,” he grunted.

Drift was the first to actually touch him. Their familiarity made it easier for him, Ratchet supposed.

He closed his optics behind the blindfold as a gentle servo petted his helm.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” said Drift. Ratchet heard the sound of his panel shifting away, and the tang of prefluid greeted his olfactory sensors.

“You don’t mind if I…?”

“Go ahead,” said Deadlock. “I’ll watch.”

The Decepticon sounded almost apprehensive, but it was hard to pay attention to that when Drift’s spike was insistently poking Ratchet’s cheek.

Ratchet smiled, taking the head into his mouth and swirling his glossa around it. He worked his way deeper and deeper, sucking a bit of Drift’s spike into his mouth at a time.

“Mmm,” he moaned pleasantly around the length. He pulled back, dragging his lips along the spike, before plunging back down. Then he opened his mouth wider, sticking out his tongue and licking the entire thing from base to tip.

He paused before taking it into his mouth again. “I don’t suppose you could uncuff me? I work a lot better when I have my hands.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Deadlock said, “I guess that will work.”

The Decepticon stepped forward, pressing a button on Ratchet’s cuffs which instantly released his servos. He rubbed his wrists a bit before turning his attention back to Drift, taking the spike into his mouth once again, but this time letting his servos creep up the other mech’s thighs. He massaged them gently for a moment, and then, with two digits, prodded curiously at the folds of Drift’s valve. He plunged them deeper, crooking them to rub against a node.

Drift gasped slightly, and his frame trembled with pleasure.

Behind Ratchet, Deadlock shifted uncomfortably.

“You let him touch your valve?”

Ratchet’s mouth was otherwise occupied, or else he might have snapped back with some dry remark. He’d always hated the way mechs like Deadlock viewed using the valve as weak.

“If you’ve never had your valve touched by a medic, you don’t know what you’re missing,” Drift laughed. “Those hands are  _ magic. _ ”

“I don’t know about that,” Deadlock grunted, “but I am fond of his aft.”

A pair of servos rested on Ratchet’s hips. Deadlock’s touch was surprisingly gentle as he caressed them softly, dipping his claws into seams and tugging at the wires beneath Ratchet’s plating. This earned a satisfied hum from the medic. One of his servos slid back to cup Ratchet’s aft, stroking it appreciatively.

“I want to see your valve,” Deadlock said, in a tone that was more commanding than a request, but not enough so to be an order.

Ratchet rolled his optics, but obeyed nonetheless. It took some maneuvering. Drift moved to a kneeling position, and Ratchet kept one servo on the swordsmech’s thighs to steady himself while the other was still busy with Drift’s valve. Drift’s spike still in his mouth, Ratchet raised his aft, giving Deadlock a view of his closed panel.

“I said I want to see your valve,” the larger mech snarled.

“You have to work for it,” said Drift, hiding a snicker.

Ratchet was worried for a moment that this would lead to some sort of altercation, but instead, Deadlock pulled back, growling in frustration, hands still resting on Ratchet’s aft.   
  
“Challenge accepted.”

Ratchet didn’t know what to expect, but the feeling of something hot and wet  _ licking _ his panel came as a surprise. And that wasn’t all. The carefully placed lick was followed up with a  _ nibble _ from Deadlock’s fangs.

Ratchet gasped, muffled by Drift’s spike, and his panel slid open immediately.

“You’re wet,” Deadlock said, and Ratchet could practically  _ hear _ the smirk in his voice.

Before he knew what was happening, a pair of clawed digits slid into his valve. A thumb pressed against Ratchet’s anterior node, and he whimpered.

“Surprised, Ratchet? Even we ‘Cons know how to please our lovers. After all, it’s no fun if I know you’re not enjoying yourself.”

The digits in his valve scissored a few times, then slid back out. There was the sound of slurping behind him. Deadlock must be licking Ratchet’s lubricants from his digits, and he was doing it loud enough to let Ratchet know exactly what he was doing.

Then, without any further hesitation, a thick spike filled Ratchet’s valve in one push.

Deadlock’s spike was different from Drift’s. It was slightly bigger, to match the proportions of Deadlock’s somewhat larger frame. The fit wasn’t uncomfortable, but Ratchet did feel quite stretched as Deadlock pushed deeper inside of him. Deadlock’s spike had fewer ridges, but the size still made sure it struck all of the nodes that Drift’s ridges helped him hit. And, last of all, as Deadlock’s hips bumped against Ratchet’s aft, his spike fully seated inside of the medic, Ratchet noticed a particular shape at the base of the Decepticon’s spike. Was that a...?

Deadlock didn’t strike Ratchet as the type of mech to have a knot. The purpose of that particular modification was to be as physically close to your partner as possible during interface. Deadlock didn’t seem the touchy-feely type. Perhaps it was a kind of power-play, forcing the receiving mech to be acutely aware with every second that Deadlock was the one who had claimed them. But despite his tough posturing, he didn’t seem that type of mech either…

A hard thrust jolted Ratchet from his thoughts, pushing him down until Drift’s spike was in his intake. Drift moaned, the unexpected movement stimulating him quicker than Ratchet had intended. He managed to brace himself in time for the next thrust, this time enjoying the pleasure that pulsed through his valve as the spike inside of him scraped past nodes that hadn’t been touched in Primus knows how long.

He managed to time himself, working his way up and down on Drift’s spike each time Deadlock thrust into him. He thrust his digits each time too, striking as many of Drift’s nodes as he could.

“Ratty…” Drift moaned, petting Ratchet’s helm encouragingly. Drift was getting close, and if Deadlock continued thrusting like that, Ratchet suspected he wouldn’t be far behind.

Sure enough, one last powerful thrust was enough to send Drift over. Transfluid filled Ratchet’s intake, and he swallowed as much as he could, though some managed to dribble out around his mouth. He tried to lick it off as best he could once Drift’s spike was removed from his mouth, but he knew he probably didn’t get all of it.

“Primus,” Drift breathed, and Ratchet imagined he was taking a good look at where Deadlock’s spike was sunk deep into his valve, pounding into him at a more frenzied pace.

“I don’t remember ever being that... enthusiastic when I was Deadlock,” he murmured.

“That’s because you didn’t have me to ‘face with back then,” Ratchet managed to pant out.

Each thrust sent Ratchet’s knees scraping across the floor, though thankfully Drift was still there to help steady him.

“You like that?” Deadlock growled. It sounded like a taunt, but as the spike in his valve slowly began to swell, Ratchet realized it was Deadlock’s way of asking if he was ok, before his knot reached full size and it was too late to pull out.

“Very much,” Ratchet answered, and Deadlock’s engine rumbled possessively.

Ratchet’s valve squeezed and stretched around the knot. He felt so stuffed, but it was far from uncomfortable. He moaned just as it reached full size, a moan that Deadlock echoed.

The clawed servos on his hips jerked Ratchet closer, and then Deadlock was overloading inside of him, hot transfluid spilling out of his swollen spike and straight into Ratchet’s valve. Ratchet’s own overload chased right after, and his valve spasmed and clenched even as his frame was still held tightly in place by his connection to Deadlock.

They stayed like that for several minutes, connected together, until Ratchet finally spoke.

“Wow. That was…”

“Incredible,” Deadlock finished.

“It was incredible to watch, too,” added Drift. “Makes me wish I still had my spike mod.”

“Y-you had a…” Ratchet panted.

Drift just laughed and leaned in for a kiss. He reached up to pull away the blindfold, letting Ratchet get a good look at him. He  _ had _ waxed his frame, and he looked amazing, especially with droplets of transfluid still running down his spike.

Once the swelling had gone down enough, Deadlock pulled out, gently laying Ratchet onto his side.

“Don’t suppose you two are up for another round?” The medic asked, once he’d caught his breath.

“Oh yeah. Watching that just got me all revved up again,” answered Drift.

“I’m always up for another round,” Deadlock responded, as if he was answering a challenge.

He followed up this statement with his own kiss, capturing Ratchet’s mouth in his and scraping a fang along the medic’s bottom lip.

Ratchet’s engine revved. This was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was silly and self indulgent, but I hope it was fun! I have plans for another chapter, but we'll see.
> 
> Special thanks to the Dratchet discord for giving me a place to post all of my terrible ideas!


	2. When It Gets Hold of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Welcome to round two! Thank you so much for the overwhelming positive response to the first part of this story! It's been so fun to write and a very nice relaxing break from all of the weirdness going on outside. I hope you enjoy the second chapter! I have a few more planned after this. I don't know how long the story will end up being, but I do have a sort of character arc planned. Enjoy!

Drift’s kisses were tentative and soft, even long after he and Ratchet had become lovers. It had taken several joinings before Ratchet finally found Drift’s inner confidence. Once unlocked, it came naturally to Drift, but it had been difficult to reach, buried out of fear of hurting Ratchet, or maybe disappointing him? He still wasn’t exactly sure.

Deadlock, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He was commanding, even in just a kiss. His glossa worked its way into Ratchet’s mouth, taking control. He carried confidence and bravado in spades, and yet, Ratchet couldn’t help suspecting it was a facade. Thus far, he’d avoided having his valve touched. He’d taken Ratchet from behind -- was it so he didn’t have to look him in the optics? Whatever the reason, Ratchet was certain there was more going on beneath the surface that Deadlock wasn’t sharing.

Up until now, a part of him had still thought of Drift and Deadlock as the same person, but he realized that wasn’t quite the case. They were _different_ , with different thoughts and experiences. He’d need to change his approach if he wanted to truly reach Deadlock.

But right now, he was still being kissed as if Deadlock was starving and Ratchet was a fresh cube of energon. It was good, _really_ good, but it still didn’t give Ratchet any true indication of who Deadlock really was.

He moved his servos to Deadlock’s hips, gently teasing the seams there, seeing what would garner a reaction. The larger mech gasped a little into the kiss. _That’s a good start._ Ratchet worked his digits deeper, massaging right in the seams where Deadlock’s hips met his thighs. Suddenly, the Decepticon pulled back, looking as if he’d been struck.   
  
“Wh- what are you doing?” He gasped.

“I’m just touching,” Ratchet said, holding his servos up in a placating gesture. “If you don’t like it, I can stop.”

Deadlock was quiet for a moment, seemingly conflicted about something. “I like it,” he said at last. “It’s just that I- I’ve never been touched like that before.”

“It’s like I told you,” Drift said. “Medic hands are magic.” He stepped closer to Ratchet, pressing up against his back. “I don’t want to interrupt anything, but my valve is feeling rather wet right now. Think you’ve got a cure, Ratchet?”

Ratchet rolled his optics at the cheesy line, but his spike was already throbbing at the thought of Drift’s valve, wet and waiting. He was still determined to figure Deadlock out, but perhaps this was a good opportunity. Maybe seeing Drift enjoying using his valve would help sway his Decepticon counterpart…

“I think I might be able to do something about that,” Ratchet answered coyly. “I’d love to have you in my lap.” He moved to a sitting position and then gestured to Deadlock. “Will you sit behind me? I need some back support. You can touch me wherever you’d like,” he added, hoping to set a good example. After all, it would be easier to earn Deadlock’s trust by first giving his own.

“That works for me,” Deadlock answered, and it was hard to read what exactly he was thinking, but his vents seemed relaxed as he sat behind Ratchet, pressing up against his back. Much to his surprise, Ratchet found himself lifted slightly to be placed in Deadlock’s lap.  
  
“Is this ok?” the Decepticon asked quietly.   
  
“It’s great,” Ratchet answered. “You’re much more comfortable than you look.”

Drift approached, eyeing Ratchet’s spike as it pressurized in front of him. Ratchet stroked it a few times, slicking it with prefluid.  
  
“C’mere. I want you facing me.”   
  
“I like the sound of that,” said Drift, and Ratchet didn’t miss that he avoided Deadlock’s gaze. They’d been rather distant to each other throughout this ordeal. It was better than fighting, but if the point of this was to make peace, they’d have to interact with each other at some point.

Ratchet didn’t have too much time to think about it, though, as his servos moved to Drift’s waist and guided him gently onto his spike.

“Ratty,” Drift moaned as he sank all the way down, filled completely with Ratchet’s length.

“You feel so good,” Ratchet encouraged, caressing gently on Drift’s hips as he planted a kiss on his cheek.

As if spurned on by the compliment, Drift’s valve squeezed pleasantly around Ratchet’s spike. It was tempting to take the swordsmech by the hips and pound into him, but Ratchet decided they’d take things slower this time. He rolled his hips gently, earning a moan.

Deadlock had been quiet for a little while, so Ratchet leaned back against him. “You can touch me anywhere,” he reminded him. “But if you’re not sure where to start, my hips always appreciate some attention.”

A few moments later, a pair of servos rested gently on Ratchet’s hips, still unsure. They massaged his outer plating a bit, and Ratchet hummed encouragingly.

He rolled his hips again, brushing his spike against so many lovely nodes inside of Drift. His servos shifted to Drift’s thighs, which was one of Ratchet’s favorite places to touch. He massaged, applying more pressure than before and working his digits as deep into the seams as he could.  
  
“Ngh!” Drift moaned, his fans clicking on.

Just as Ratchet had hoped, Deadlock followed his example, dipping his own digits into Ratchet’s seams. Ratchet’s plating flared appreciatively, showing his enjoyment while also giving Deadlock more room to work between the seams. Suddenly, a clawed digit tugged at a wire, and Ratchet gasped in surprise. It appeared Deadlock was a fast learner. Encouraged by Ratchet’s reaction, he tugged again, leaving Ratchet’s wires tingling.

“Ah!” Ratchet moaned, and his hips jerked a bit, working Drift even further onto his spike.  
  
“Do that again,” Drift gasped. “Ngh- Need you!”

Ratchet followed the request, thrusting a bit harder into Drift as Deadlock continued to stroke his hips. Each touch had Ratchet’s plating tingling, and it felt amazing alongside the way Drift’s valve squeezed around his spike.

He closed his optics, moaning in pleasure, when a light servo cupped his face, lifting it to meet Deadlock’s lips in a kiss. This one was less demanding than the earlier kisses. It seemed more motivated by a genuine need to be close to Ratchet, instead of simply to dominate or take control of him.

He melted into the kiss, soaking in the sensations that covered his frame. There were so many servos on him -- Drift was gripping his shoulders now, and Deadlock continued working ratchet’s hips. Drift’s valve was cycling pleasurably, warm and wet and _beautiful_ around his spike, and Deadlock continued to explore Ratchet’s mouth. His frame was getting heated fast, and for a moment he thought he might be the first to overload, but after another thrust, Drift beat him to it, tossing his helm back and moaning his delight as his valve spasmed around Ratchet’s spike.

“Go on,” Deadlock whispered, “Join him. Overload. You’re safe. I’ll take such good care of you, Ratchet. I promise.”

“Ah!” Ratchet panted, and his overload finally escaped him. Transfluid filled Drift’s valve, some of it squeezing out to drip into Ratchet’s lap.

Deadlock held him steady until he came back down from it, and even then he rested some of his weight against the larger mech until he could catch his breath.

“That felt amazing, Ratty,” Drift said, sliding off of his spike with a wet _pop_.

“Didn’t feel so bad yourself.” Ratchet smiled up at him. “ _Both_ of you.” He slid out of Deadlock’s lap and stood, turning to offer a hand to the other mech. After a moment’s hesitation, Deadlock took it, letting Ratchet pull him to his pedes.

The Decepticon had been quiet for the past few minutes. Ratchet considered his words carefully before speaking again. He still wanted to see Deadlock out of his protective shell. He’d been so gentle with Ratchet before, so tender and caring, yet now he was already retreating back inward, glowering around the room as if the other two were going to turn around and attack him at any minute.

“Deadlock,” Ratchet said gently. “Is there something you want to do next? We can also call it a night if you’re done.”

“No!” Deadlock barked, but he sounded more anxious than angry. “I want to keep going. I want…” He trailed off, unsure of himself.

“You can tell me,” Ratchet encouraged softly. “There’s no judgement here.”  
  
“I want you to touch me,” Deadlock whispered. “Like you touched him earlier. I want you to- to touch my valve.”

“I can do that,” Ratchet said, smiling softly. “I love touching valves, and the consensus seems to be that I’m good at it.”

“The best,” Drift chimed in.

“If you don’t like it, I can always stop.”

“You wouldn’t be disappointed?” Deadlock asked, seeming skeptical.

“I like making my partner happy,” Ratchet answered. “I’d be more disappointed if I kept doing something you didn’t like.”

This seemed to reassure Deadlock somewhat, but his posture remained tense and defensive.

“Here, let’s move to the berth,” Ratchet suggested, guiding Deadlock over to the almost extravagantly large berth that had gone unused until now. They’d chosen a spare room as a neutral area for their… encounter, but Ratchet was starting to envy how big and comfortable the berth looked. He helped Deadlock lay back, making sure the other mech was comfortable before climbing onto the berth to join him. The berth shook a little as Drift joined them, perched on the edge, just out of reach.

Ratchet gave him an inquisitive look, silently asking if he was ok.

“I’ll watch,” Drift said, offering a reassuring smile. It still bothered Ratchet that Drift and Deadlock wouldn’t get closer to each other, but that was a challenge for another time.

He let his servos ghost down Deadlock’s thighs, caressing softly. He tugged them further apart, settling between them. “Open up for me, sweetspark.”

Deadlock slid his valve cover aside with less hesitation than Ratchet expected, which was reassuring. Beads of lubricant were already glistening on the soft folds.

“I’m going to use my glossa. Is that ok?”

“Y-yes!” Deadlock stuttered, his optics glowing in what Ratchet hoped was excitement.

He leaned forward, prodding gently at the folds with his glossa, licking up some of the drops of lubricant. Deadlock jerked beneath him, causing Ratchet to pull back.

“Everything ok?”

“Yes. It’s just… sensitive.”

“That’ll make things even more fun, then.” Ratchet smiled before going back to the valve. He let his glossa work deeper this time, dragging over Deadlock’s anterior node. The other mech gasped, but without giving him any mercy, Ratchet moved back over the node and sucked.

“Hnn!” Deadlock’s moan was a beautiful sound. It meant he was enjoying himself, which is exactly what Ratchet wanted.

After a few more teasing licks, Ratchet pulled back, sliding two digits in to replace his glossa.

“Your valve is so soft,” Ratchet murmured gently. “It feels like velvet on my digits. It’s beautiful, just like you.”

Deadlock’s face flushed bright with energon, and he turned his gaze away. Ratchet wondered if anyone had ever called him beautiful before.

He crooked his digits gently, pressing against a ceiling node and causing Deadlock to buck beneath him.

“Easy,” Ratchet said, placing his free servo on one of Deadlock’s thighs. “I’m going to make this so good for you. I want to take care of you too, Deadlock.”

He thrust his digits experimentally a few times. “Now, do you think you can take another one?”

“Yes!” Deadlock pleaded.

“I know you can. You’ve been so good. So strong and capable. But it’s ok to be taken care of sometimes, too.”

Ratchet slid a third digit into Deadlock’s valve, thrusting again. He sought out another cluster of nodes, stroking it gently.

“Ratchet…” Deadlock gasped.

“I’ll trade with you,” Ratchet said. “I’ll give you four digits, but only if you overload really nice for me. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, yes!” Deadlock bucked beneath him, and Ratchet waited for him to calm before slipping another digit in. From there, he showed no mercy, thrusting his servo in until his palm cupped the outside of Deadlock’s valve. He rubbed a thumb over the anterior node, then thrust again, faster. He kept going like that, seeking out as many nodes as he could, trying to stimulate as many sources of pleasure as possible. It only took a few more for Deadlock to overload, breaking around him.

This was exactly what Ratchet had been looking for. Deadlock’s expression of pure bliss, free of any tough facade or posturing. He looked almost… innocent like this.

Ratchet withdrew his digits, licking them clean as he caressed Deadlock’s thigh with his other servo.

“That was beautiful, Deadlock.”

Instead of looking back at him, Deadlock looked past Ratchet, to Drift.

“You were right,” he murmured. “His hands are magic.”

Drift seemed surprised to be addressed, but he nodded, grinning.

“Are we ready to call it a night?” Ratchet asked. “I don’t know if I have much more left in me.”

Deadlock was studying him hard, and a devious expression crossed his face.

“Will you let me try just one more thing?”

Ratchet sighed, a small smile crossing his features. “Just one more. What did you have in mind?”

“Actually, I was hoping Drift could help me out with it.”

Drift looked puzzled, but he didn’t seem averse to it, which was good. He crawled across the berth as Deadlock beckoned him closer and whispered something into his audial. The same devious expression crossed his face when he heard whatever idea Deadlock was telling him.

Ratchet cocked a brow, suddenly suspicious.

“Come closer, Ratty. Don’t you want to know what we’re talking about?” Drift teased, stretching out his servo.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” Ratchet grunted, but he accepted the outstretched servo regardless. That turned out to be a mistake, as Drift’s grip turned to iron and suddenly yanked him closer.

“I don’t know, Ratchet, I think it’s going to be pretty good,” Deadlock added, snatching Ratchet’s other servo before he had a chance to react.

“What-” Before he could even finish the sentence, Drift popped one of Ratchet’s digits into his mouth, nibbling softly.

On his other servo, Deadlock ran his glossa gently across Ratchet’s palm.

“You fraggers!” But his cry spiraled into a moan as the delicate sensors in his servos were teased relentlessly. He was tossed back and forth by so many pleasurable sensations -- a lick here, someone sucking on a digit there, or a pointed fang grazing one of his knuckles.

Drift had stimulated him by playing with his servos many times in the past, but this was the first time Ratchet had had _both_ of his servos teased at the same time. A jolt of charge ran down his spinal strut as someone sucked on his knuckle. A glossa danced around the tips of his digits, someone pressed gentle kisses to another. It was all too much, and before he could gain any control, he overloaded, hard. His body shook and trembled, and he collapsed forward, where a strong set of arms caught him.

“Easy,” Drift whispered softly as he and Deadlock settled Ratchet between them.

“ _Now_ I’m done,” Ratchet groaned.

“We couldn’t resist seeing you overload one more time,” Deadlock teased, but his expression turned serious once Ratchet was settled.

“I’ll be on my way, then. Give you two some space.”

“Hey, wait. You can stay, if you want. If Drift is comfortable with it too, I mean.”

From Ratchet’s other side, Drift pondered, but nodded in agreement after a moment. “I’m ok with it. I trust you not to hurt him.”

Whether or not Drift trusted Deadlock not to attack _himself_ went unspoken, but they were off to a good enough start, it seemed.

Before he could protest, Ratchet slid an arm around Deadlock’s waist and pulled him closer, a silent way of letting the mech know that he was very wanted. Once Ratchet pulled him close, the tension left Deadlock’s body, and he relaxed into the touch.

Drift wrapped his own arms around Ratchet, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

Out of all of the things to come out of this, Ratchet couldn’t say he’d expected to end up sandwiched between Drift and Deadlock, cuddling against them. It certainly wasn’t a bad place to wind up, though, and there was a sense of balance as their vents grew heavy and the three of them drifted into recharge.


End file.
